Salutations to all. Here is my second story here on the forums. I tried to give it an original twist and I hope it delivers. Please enjoy!!

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The Patrons


PART ONE


DuPont Circle, Washington DC (Capital Wasteland) circa 2279

" ?'It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such an inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their absolute incoherence, their absurd want of meaning, their entire lack of style. They affect us just as vulgarity affects us. They give us an impression of sheer brute force, and we revolt against that. Sometimes, however, a tragedy that possesses artistic elements of beauty crosses our lives. If these elements of beauty are real, the whole thing simply appeals to our sense of dramatic effect. Suddenly we find that we are no longer the actors, but the spectators of the play. Or rather we are both. We watch ourselves, and the mere wonder of the spectacle enthralls us?' "

A distant explosion resonated across the rubble ridden metropolis as Gilford Thompson quickly glanced from the novel he was reading. Surveying the streets was a hassle. Blurs of concrete and contort steel passed through Gilford's eyes as he tried to see if the producer of the sound was close. More sounds of gunfire enveloped the area. He couldn't take it anymore. Gilford took the pistol he left on the counter and ran towards the window where his comrade awaited him, binoculars in hand.

"I don't like the sound out there Winthrop. Do you see anything?" Thompson proclaimed as he tried to ready his pistol between his clammy and shuddering hands.

David Winthrop laughed at his friend's worried remark. "The mere sound is frightening you again Gilford? Have we not heard the same crashes and bangs many a time? There are no ruffians around the premises. Just the same factions fighting it out near the Capitol. We are safe my friend."

Thompson shook his head in disgust as he placed the pistol on a nearby antiquated cabinet, taking a deep and forceful breath of air. David took a look at his friend as he put away his binoculars. Marks of stress and anguish teamed his otherwise youthful appearance. They weren't cut out for this kind of work. But the cause?the cause was more than worth the effort. Winthrop decided to ease the mood. It was the only thing to do in such a situation.

"What were you doing back there my good man? More important matters to attend to other than survival?" David asked, turning again to look outside of their makeshift lookout.

"Ah yes?reading a novel I found. It's quite interesting if I do say so myself."

"Interesting? What do you mean Gilford?"

"Don't you realize the significance of a book David? Does anyone recognize it anymore? This world we live in is one of pure savagery. I believe that one has to bring back some sort of civil activity in this meek existence, lest you become the beast like everyone else."

"I suppose you're right Gilford. Isn't that the creed of the Patrons, the reason we're out here having this conversation? To answer to a higher calling other than caps and scalps. To preserve artistry for generations to come."

"Exactly!!" Thompson exuberantly remarked as he rose from his seating. The time for waiting was over. It was time to fulfill the exact reason they were out in this area of utter desolation.

Gilford had a new spring in his step. He was prepared for action. "I think we've waited for long enough. Are we ready to move to our first spot of interest?"

Winthrop let out a yawn as he awkwardly stretched to his legs. "Precisely my friend. The Phillips Collection is about two or so blocks from here. We have to be careful though. God only knows who inhabits the gallery now. You are the only one with the weapon remember? Keep that pistol close. What paintings are we primarily looking for?"

"The Phillips Collection?I recall reading about it somewhere. An art museum founded by one Duncan Phillips in 1921. Besides that, I believe that Renoir's 'Luncheon of the Boating Party' is the key prize piece there. I only hope it's in good enough condition that minor revisions are necessary. Whatever we find that is intact is all the better to bring back to the station nearby. Future generations must know of their forefather's endeavors in artistic quality. The prospect of an entire subculture and medium of mankind is in our hand's David. If we cannot reserve these works then what type of 'art' will take its place, that of bashed skulls and decrepit corpses?"

"I don't think I want to find out Gilford. I just pray that some of these pieces of art are attainable after 200 years or so of an indefinable existence. Let's move out."

Winthrop and Thompson climbed through the hollowed structure and came into the streets that surrounded DuPont Circle. As they planned, the two quickly moved from each piece of protection they could find, taking a fraction of time to check if the coast was clear. The streets were oddly empty today with no belligerents in sight. It only added to the intensity as Gilford and David systematically made there way across the ravaged streets. After tense minutes of traveling they finally came across what appeared to be the remains of the Phillips Collection. The brick layered building was oddly intact besides a few bullet holes and dents of shrapnel. From an old bus stop the two assessed what was in front of them. Tactics and preparation were needed with the weak weaponry they possessed. It was best to avoid confrontation.

David took a peak of the small museum through his binoculars. "What do you think Gilford? Should we take a stab at it? The door is right there for us to walk through. Want to take the tour?"

Thompson seemed tentative in his response. "I'm just not sure. Going through the front door seems like suicide in a place such as this. You've heard the stories of the traps and raiders near DuPont. We have no choice though. I don't see anywhere else to get in. It's now or never. We embark then."

With that the two men made their way to the entrance of the gallery. Gilford checked both ways of the road with his pistol in hand. It just seemed too easy, too?something in the distance!! From the looks of it there were three men in primitively made clothing bearing firearms: raiders. Screaming and screeching was heard as he noticed the three coming their way.

"Get in the damn gallery David!!" Gilford yelled, gawkily aiming his pistol at the pack of rabid thugs. Winthrop was cursing to himself as he violently pulled the door. Thompson jerked his head around to see what was wrong.

"It's locked!!" David uttered as he yanked at the chain and bolt that held the door. The raiders were getting closer, facial features and weapons came into view. Blotched and scarred faces and rifles covered in a rustic palette. Gilford's mind was in a blistering panic. Raiders, lock, art, Patrons, lock, gun?that was it!!

"Stand back!!" Gilford yelled as he took his pistol and fired a round into the lock. Shards of lead flew around the vicinity, miraculously missing the two men. The door slowly creaked open and Gilford and David slammed through with three assailants in pursuit. There wasn't any time to appreciate let alone identify what was around them. A nearby bathroom seemed safe as the two ran into the nearby cubicles. Winthrop closed the door and Gilford placed a chair in front to jam it. A mix of emotions were swathing inside this very room.

"What did we get ourselves into Gilford? What are we going to do now eh? Was it your plan to only carry one weapon for extra space reserved for artwork? What the hell am I going to do? What now?!!"

Gilford was silent as he could only stare at the door. The raiders would be coming any minute now. Their lives would be coming to an end any minute now. Thompson readied his pistol as David stood behind him, ready for the inevitable?.

I like it

Thanks for the comment. Here is a rather short part deux. Please give me your thoughts. All can only help to make me a better writer. Enjoy!!

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PART TWO

Tension was palpable as the two men stood quietly in anticipation of attack. David looked around the bathroom to try and find some escape. If the raiders broke in they'd be finished. They wouldn't be able to last against three men with only one pistol. There had to be some way. David decided to pick up a gutted pipe just in case?better than nothing he supposed. The men looked around to see if they could find some trap door or window to flee. Gilford surprisingly found a pack of cigarettes with a lighter nearby. It wouldn't be a bad time for a light. Thompson took the lighter and flicked it to see if it would work. A little flame combusted from the spark. Gilford looked around at what materials were around them: A lighter, pipe, cigarettes, and his pistol with some bullets. Suddenly a thought flashed in Thompson's head.

"David?I think I got an idea. Help me out here." Gilford whispered as he and David collected the pipe, lighter, and some leftover bullets together.

"What's your idea man?" Winthrop questioned as he scratched his head at the oddity of such a collection of objects.

"Well my friend?I'm no explosive expert but?"

"A bomb Gilford? You seriously think a crude explosive will take care of three of these armored goons?"

"Did you have any ideas besides sharing a gun? It can distract or maim them for an escape. Let's get to work while we don't have them crashing through the door."

Thompson let out a worried sigh as he helped his friend assemble the contraption. The leftover bullets from the pistol were dissected and gunpowder was retrieved and put into the pipe. Leftover parts of the bullets were placed inside of the bomb for lethal shrapnel. David tore off some of his clothing and the two decided it would be used as the fuse to ignite with the lighter. Both men cackled at their Frankenstein of a weapon. It all seemed like from a Hollywood movie, too perfect. As soon as they readied themselves inside a stall voices were heard from outside.

"Little pigs, little pigs, let us in!!" The raiders mocked as they banged on the door.

The chair was slowly deteriorating as the attempts to knock down the door got more violent and sporadic. The time was right, time for action. David lit the cloth on the pipe bomb with the lighter and flung it towards the door. In rapid succession the raiders made their way inside with rifles in hand. Out of nowhere the pipe bomb set off, an ear shattering boom encompassing the small room. The stall shook slightly as Thompson and Winthrop cowered for protection from the blast. After the blast they sprinted out of the stall, not sure if the bomb did any damage to their assailants. If it made that sound it had to do some significant damage. Everything was in a blur as the men raced out of the bathroom. Adrenaline coursed through their veins as they hurried out.

They reached the lobby when David suddenly stopped to survey the bathroom from a distance. He seemed exasperated yet jolly as he looked back at their doing.

"Did you see that Gilford?! Oh my god man?that was insane!!"

Gilford kept his poise as he tried to get his friend back to their retreat. "Come on David!! We don't know if the bomb did its job! They could still be alive! Let us go!!"

"What are you talking about?! It's just?" A sudden interjection silenced Winthrop. A bullet penetrated his skull as he suddenly fell back against the damaged tile flooring. Gilford couldn't believe what he saw?so inartistic?so crude. Without time to mourn the loss of his friend he ran off into the gallery with fear of his own life. But the cause?the cause would be worth it all in the end?.he hoped.

Loved it! I think it's much better than your last one. Poor David, I felt a conncection to him, probably because my best friend is named that, the loss sadens me. Oh well, I eagrly await your next chapter.

Thanks for the support Yttrium. I'm glad that I'm fixing the problems I had with my last story with this piece. Here's part three for all of your enjoyment. Tell me what you guys think.

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Part Three

Gilford slowly trudged on through towards the Patrons main establishment on the outskirts of the Mall. He could not comprehend what happened for the past days. His friend was killed right in front of him; he suffered from sleep deprivation and hunger, and was chased by raiders all through an art gallery. Things couldn't have gotten better. All for the sake of the one painting he carried on his back. As he opened the door to the office building a familiar figure appeared.

"So what did you retrieve?"

"What did I retrieve? Did you really ask me that? I've been out in that hell hole for a week and you don't even care to ask of my well being? I'm the one who is risking life and limb to secure these pieces of art! I've lost my friend to this damn mess so dont you be asking me about a dang canvas!!"

Gegard Quincy tried to calm the ravaged and beaten soul as he's done many times. It was completely natural for newcomers to get easily upset over these matters. This Gilford Thompson wasn't the first one.

"Relax boy?I'm glad you grace us with your presence. We mourn the loss of...David...correct? It is a god send that you've come and bearing a relic as well. Please if you'd be so kind to show it to me."

Gilford retained his composure and reluctantly took one cloth covered canvas off of his load and placed it upon the table for Gegard to see.

"You won't believe what I found for us Mister Quincy. It might only be one painting but you'll see. It's quite a marvel. David and I went through a lot to get this." Thompson uttered as he pulled the cover off the artwork. As soon as Gegard laid eyes upon it he couldn't hold back his excitement.

"My god!! You really found it?I cannot believe it!! Renoir's 'Luncheon of the Boating Party' in all of its glory. It's in rather exceptional condition as well. Except for a few blotches of course. Nothing we can't fix though. I applaud your efforts Gilford. If you were to bring back one painting from the Phillips Collection then this would be the one. Well done!!"

Gilford sullenly nodded as Gegard gave the painting to his colleagues for reservation. Was the life of his best friend worth a single painting? It all seemed so distant and dull to Thompson. Nothing made sense to him after the course of events.

"Gilford you have proven yourself to be a useful benefactor to the Patrons. We need men like you for our great expedition."

Thompson was a bit bewildered at the statement. "Great expedition? Where are you referring to Mister Quincy?"

Gegard could only laugh as he patted Gilford on the shoulder. "Why the only place of art that matters in the District of Columbia: The National Gallery of Art. To trek down towards the gallery has been a long term goal of the Patrons. I feel that it is now attainable with such a strong following. The most famous gallery in America. Can you imagine it Gilford? We now have that chance to recover some of the greatest works that date back to the Medieval ages! There is one piece of artwork however that we must find."

"Which one is that?" Thompson wondered as he sat in an old pre-war chair, attentively listening to Quincy.

"That is no other than 'Ginevra de' Benci' painted by Leonardo da Vinci himself. Rumors have been circulating that all of his artwork that remained in Europe has been destroyed by the bombs and circumstances surrounding the Great War. Think about it Gilford. We are talking about the last surviving piece of Leonardo himself! Generations to come need to know of one of the world's most greatest artistic geniuses. That painting is the holy grail of artwork today Gilford."

Thompson sat back as he tried to take everything in. It was so much to absorb for such a meek existence he's been apart of for so long. He finally felt that he would be part of something bigger than himself. Bigger than the caps and scalps. This was for the future of art itself. Suddenly Gilford grounded himself with the bleak reality of the situation.

"What about the combatants out there? What are we going to do about those abominations, mercenaries, and raiders roaming about DC? We cannot possibly take on those parties as ill equipped as we are. What do you...?

"Do you really think I'd forget about them? Of course not. Some associates have been in good trade with the many caravans that pass along on the outskirts of town. We will supply the necessary weapons and tools for the endeavor. Gilford there's not much I can talk about right now unless you agree to assisting the Patrons once more in their time of need. What do you say? Care to take a part in history?"

Nice, hope you going have a crew for him to interact with.

There will definitely be a crew for the next part of the story. It would only make sense for traveling near the Mall and all. Regarding the National Gallery of Art however, I wasn't exactly sure if it was still standing with Fallout 3 giving little to no evidence of its existence. I always thought it'd be an interesting vista and could supply some cool quests. I just decided to take some liberties of my own to add it. I would be interested to know the fate of the National Gallery in regards to canon material.

But thanks for the comment man. I know that part three was a bit slow but it will only lead to the bigger things.

I think you can safely say that it still is there. I mean the whole D.C. got caprpeted with bombs, but most of the buildins are still there. In fact I think the only thing that go turned into a crater, was the white house.

I'm very impressed. This is on a whole other level than most of what I have read in the Fanfix. If it isn't canon then canon be (censored)! This is awesome. Keep up the story, I can't wait!

Thank you again for the support. The fourth installment is now added. Please tell me what you think of the story overall. Thanks a lot!!

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Part Four

What was Gilford getting himself in to anyway? Thompson lay inside a crater with four other men outside of the Mall. It's been about two days since they left from their base of operations. Bombs and gunfire muffled out everything. One couldn't even hear himself think among the lead and plasma in the air. All were battered and beaten as they sat silently in this hole, waiting for a time to make their way across. One decided to strike a conversation with Gilford as he tapped him on the shoulder.

"Care to take a part in history? That's what old Quincy said to you? That's what he says to all of us buddy, no different. You better hope it's not as a statistic?"

"I hope not Louis?I hope not." Gilford muddled under his breath as he scurried around with his equipment.

Louis was an adept member of the Patrons. He always seemed a bit cynical and indifferent to the Patrons' cause. Thompson had no idea why he stuck around in the first place, especially for a dangerous task like this. Maybe it was for the adventure?

Lenny glared at Louis as he responded in suit. "We don't need your pessimistic outlook Louis. We have the future of art itself to preserve. It's something greater than any of us."

Lenny was quite the intellectual. Quite surprised he was a mercenary before he got where he is today. It was definitely a testament to his demeanor as he finally settled on this non profit society. Louis only mumbled under his breath as he checked his assault rifle. The two other men were Hansen and Ian, initiates like Gilford. Both were rather optimistic fellows and friends, just like Gilford and David were.

The gunfire continued from outside the hole with no signs of stopping. Gilford could only imagine them being stuck in this crater for days even. Better safe than sorry he supposed.

"When do we get cracking towards the Gallery?" Ian eagerly wondered as he stood up on the grimy dirt and concrete.

Lenny put his hand out in attempts to calm Ian. "Not now my good fellow. We have to wait for the scuffle outside to settle. Only then we can move towards the National Gallery. Just be patient Ian."

Ian continued to stand his ground as he decided to look outside of the bunker. He stood there for quite some time as he observed the battle from outside. The others only watched as Ian put his life at risk.

"Mind giving us a play by play out there? I got my money on the Super Mutants." Louis replied as Lenny nudged him once again.

"Get down from there Ian!!" Hansen yelled. It was an all too familiar moment for Gilford. He couldn't stand to watch lest it bring back terrible memories.

These huge green atrocities were battling normal humans, mercenaries even. Ian couldn't look away from the battle?couldn't look away. The carnage, the blood shed, it was all so surreal. The bullets, lasers,it was a light show. A sudden red beam was coming towards Ian. An optical illusion? His eyes were a bit bungled from radiation and alcohol. Maybe it was that, but it was just a strange light?a very strange light. In a matter of seconds Ian flew back into the bunker, did sense finally come back to him? As the men observed Ian lay motionless with his face like that of hamburger meat from the lazer blast. Hansen ran over screaming to Ian, trying to hysterically console the corpse of his friend. Out of the silence Louis managed to put his word on the event.

"I know that God has some sense of humor but this?" He was cut off by Hansen drawing his pistol, on the verge of bawling. Everyone suddenly focused their attention on Hansen. Things were unfortunately escalating out of control?

"Look man, don't be stupid. Put the gun down and we can get on our way."

"Don't do it Hansen. It wasn't Louis' fault."

"Do you think this is what Ian would've wanted? Relax my friend"

All of these words of wisdom couldn't drive back Hansen as he continued to aim the gun at Louis, slowly pulling down the hammer on the revolver. Gilford knew something had to happen. It was now or never. In the blink of an eye Thompson jumped on Hansen. Punches, thrashes, knees, elbows, it was quite the scuffle. Gilford focused on the pistol as he gripped onto the steel handle tightly. A huge bang resonated as both men stopped fighting. The pistol fell to the ground with smoke coming from the barrel. Screams were heard from within the hole.

"God?damn what the hell was that for? You idiots!!" Louis screeched. A wound was present on his shoulder, blood and shrapnel from the bullet engulfed any clothing within the vicinity. Lenny rushed to the aide of Louis as Hansen and Gilford calmed down for the sake of survival.

"Well this is at least one of the good things I learned from being a hired gun." Lenny responded as he proceeded to get Louis cleaned up.

It took about fifteen minutes and Louis's arm was put in an improvised sling. Louis gave Hansen and Gilford deathly glares as he stood up from the rubble. Things weren't looking good to Gilford. Down a man and one that is now severely handicapped. It didn't help that two of them probably abhored him now. They didn't even make it into the gallery yet. But the cause?the cause would be worth it in the end.

Part Five is now added. I would like some criticism to see if I should keep this story going. Enjoy!!

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Part Five

(One day later)

"Our first stop on this journey. Welcome to the East Wing of the National Gallery of Art gentlemen. The exhibits that were in here were that of modern and contemporary artists. We can expect to find Warhol's 'Green Marilyn' and maybe even one or two of Picasso's works. As always just try to find anything when you get in there."

The sharp edges and contemporary look of the East Wing were reduced to shoddiness and rubble. The whole structure lost the flair that made it a marquee part of the National Gallery. Not a surprise to any of the men as they took a minute to observe the destroyed beauty. Being near the Capitol has torn the building to pieces. The clean marble had reduced to a palette of dirt, blood, and grime.

People have definitely been in here before, not very friendly by the looks of things. Lenny and Louis led the pack as they cautiously traveled the ravaged terrain. They passed by mangled corpses and pieces of the filthiest garbage and trash. Louis checked his assault rifle as he gave the men an important caveat.

"Get your guns ready and loaded?we might be in for a bumpy ride."

Gilford checked his pistol as he made sure the slide was working?uh oh?jammed. Thompson tapped at his gun as he attempted to get it back in place. Nothing seemed to work.

"Everything alright Gilford?" Hansen quietly asked as he too checked his weapon.

"Fine?just great man."

He didn't want to bring it up so he pretended everything was alright. He was on most people's bad side anyway. Didn't want to upset any more with his incompotence?dumb move. What was he thinking anyway? What if they got into a real scuffle? Not that the corpses laid outside would indicate any tranquil passing. Butterflies were in his stomach as he walked closer to the gallery. If there was a god up there he hoped he'd be on his side right now.

"So what do we expect? Super Mutants? Mercenaries? Raiders?" Gilford wondered, mouth pvssyring in reluctant anticipation.

"Expect anything out in the Capitol Wasteland Thompson. Desperation and chaos can bring out the very bane of human activity." Lenny replied as they neared the entrance to the East Wing. The reply didn't help Gilford as he nervously wiped the sweat off of his brow.

The four men stopped at the entrance as they observed the gallery from their concealed position. Everything was as empty as the Wasteland itself. Any art in existence looked to be ripped off the walls. A huge hanging sculpture was seen shattered on the crumbling floor. It was quite an anticlimactic sight.

"Well look at that art eh Lenny?" Louis snickered. He was right; nothing was existent to the eye that resembled artwork. Lenny kept looking inward though, not letting Louis' remark faze him.

"Patience my good man. This is only the lobby area no? We have to delve deeper in the rabbit hole sort of speak. Thankfully it looks empty of any ruffians. Let's move out men."

With that the men embarked into the gallery with weapons drawn. The openness of the lobby frightened Gilford. Something terrible had to happen any moment?please make it not be him. But nothing?Minutes passed as the men made it to a descending staircase. A faded sign read that of 'Modern Artwork Exhibit'. Heading in the right direction?

The exhibit was an atrocity. Blood and guts were spilled everywhere. Bodies were laid across in contorted jumbles. A battle of sorts had to happen down here. Gilford had to hold back his bowels as he avoided the gross scene like the plague.

"Disgusting. What a mess?" Hansen uttered as they walked through the 'exhibit'.

"What do you mean Hansen?" Louis chuckled. "This is the modern art of the wasteland! You are looking right at it!"

Lenny once again hushed Louis as he tried to keep the men's morale high. He didn't understand Louis sometimes. As if everything was a game to him. Gilford observed the walls, no art was present, and nothing was?wait a minute?there was something!! Red, no doubt blood, writing dabbled across the wall.
"Everyone I found some marks on the wall!!" Gilford yelled as everyone came running down to view the sight.

Lenny scratched his irregular beard as he tried to decipher the wording. "Hmm?'Mellon bew?it's not finished. I would assume the last word was going to be beware. But it doesn't make sense, Mellon beware?"

As Gilford was about to respond a huge crashing sound came from nowhere. Gilford jumped in the air in fright as the men, startled, looked the way of the sound. Sounds of clattering footsteps echoed through the exhibit. What was it? Hansen decided to step up and check it out. Pistol in hand he went around the corner. No sound of gunfire. Probably nothing?

BAM BAM BAM!! What was the matter? Lenny and Louis rushed to Hansen's aide as Gilford stood there dumbfounded. His mind was racing as he gripped the wall for balance, feeling lightheaded at the moment. This couldn't be happening?no way. In a matter of seconds Lenny and Louis came running back, motioning to Gilford to run the other way. Gilford did as the two told him. He didn't know what they were running from, yet the fear in Lenny and Louis' eyes showed that it couldn't be good. As they came around the corner the three gasped for air. Louis was trying to mutter something as he regained composure.

"Hansen?dead?security robot?big?security robot."

Gilford couldn't believe it. He threw his arms in the air as he proceeded to try and rip any hair that remained on his scalp. Was all of this on set of some new horror movie he didn't know he was a part of? How was everything going so bad so quickly? As the men tried to get an idea of a plan a screeching sound came from the speakers. Help perhaps? Faulty intercom system? Static was frequent as words were finally spoken through.

"Ah?more sniveling robbers!! I swear you goons know the price yet not the value of these great pieces. Do you think you'll get away with this like everyone else? I will not leave until you all are dead!! I, Andrew Mellon, will not let these travesties befall my great museum. I pulled too many strings with Congress and put too much money into this very foundation. Time to prove your mettle!!"

I apologize for the absence but I'm back again. The weeks gone gave me enough time to truly think my story out. Here's the next section. Enjoy and please tell me what you think!!

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Part Six

The intercom popped off as the three remaining men huddled around to get some sense of the situation. Things just didn't make sense at this moment. Nothing did when survival was all that mattered. Louis threw his arms in the air in frustration as he bellowed more complaints.

"Well you hear that? This Mellon fellow must have the damn place littered with those robots and traps. What's the use now? I'm not going to die for a piece of art!!"

Lenny readied his weapon as he stood, back against the wall, a stern look across his face.

"We're not going to die Lenny, not if we keep moving. Let's go before that hunk of junk finds us."

And so the men ran across the gallery, trying to find some shelter or protection from the robot. Death could come from anywhere. They had to keep their eyes out for anything. They finally found what appeared to be the offices of the gallery. Lenny lead the way as the men hurried inside. The offices were rather intact yet muddled with residue and rust. Gilford let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door.

"I think were safe." Gilford uttered as he holstered his weapon.

Relaxing for the...buzzes?a peculiar sound was coming from the ceiling, perhaps the intercom again? The buzz was still imminent, the men looked up confused and baffled. Out of the corner of Gilford eyes he saw something pop from the ceiling.

"Turret!! Get down!!" Louis yelled as the men hit the dirt.

Gilford clambered behind an office desk as the other men found sanctuary in other places. The sound of bullets pierced the ear drums of Gilford as he shielded his ears from the noise. He felt helpless, as if a baby in a corner, as he and his compatriots crouched under the furniture that kept their meek existence intact. Gilford tried to yell over to Lenny and Louis but even he couldn't hear his own voice. The desk was slowly deteriorating into shavings of wood, Gilford had to think fast. He took a quick glance around the room and still heard some sort of buzzing noise through all of this banter of lead. It had to be something...he might as well look. Anything was better than what he was doing right now.

As if in some warzone, Gilford lay prone and crawled around his desk, seeing the bullets crash through the splintered wood, edging closer to his battered body. Sweat caved down his face and shivers overcame his body. The buzzing was now in full focus. Gilford finally found the maker of the noise. It appeared to be some generator or sorts. It had some computer attached to it. He continued to look at the machinery as nothing to Gilford identified the object. The screen had some sort of computer gibberish that was illegible to the common eye. Lead continued to fly as patience ran low with Gilford. Something had to happen.

Gilford took out his pistol and remembered that it couldn't fire. In frustration he took the gun and pounded it against the computer. Sparks shot up in his face as he continued to violently strike the screen, letting out a guttural and primal screech. The bullets were still flying. Oh God?into your hands?I commend my?the gunfire began to slow down. Was it truly stopping? It couldn't be!! The sound of the blistering lead finally ceased. Victory!! Gilford stood up as he let out a chuckle. The other got up from their hiding place, smiling at the prospect of safety.

"Well that was interesting to say the least." Lenny said as he readjusted his sling.

"Apparently the controls were right here. Had to destroy them." Gilford said as he pointed to the clunks of scrap metal. The two men nodded nonchalantly as they began to scurry around the office. Gilford couldn't believe it yet didn't say anything, how insincere.

It was about two minutes until the group came together to share the information they found. Lenny took a stifled breath as he collected all the papers. He read them quickly and looked up to begin speaking.

"What we have here gentlemen is a?fascinating?situation at hand. There is a reason for no art being present in the gallery. Apparently the board of directors of the gallery was in communication with Vault-Tec about constructing their own vault. It appears from the papers that it went through. They apparently moved all of the artwork to this one location before the bombs fell. It even references Da Vinci's painting in the log here. The code name of the location is Vault 37."

"So where is this Vault 37 located anyway?" Gilford asked, trying to take a peak at the papers.

"Well that's the interesting part of all of this. Apparently the vault is said to be under the West Building, under the giant Oculus, quite a vista if I do say so myself. They apparently gutted the fountain at the center and placed the entrance there, if that wasn't much of a giveaway."

Louis looked doubtful as he snatched one of the papers. "How do we know that nobody got to it? What if that Mellon guy is there?"

It suddenly got silent as Lenny sighed and rubbed his eyes vigorously. "That's the problem. They reference this Andrew Mellon in some of the historic documentation. Mellon is supposed to be dead."

"Dead? Are there any papers noting his death? A date maybe?"

"August 27th?"

"Of what year? Come on!!"

"1937."

I'm at a point in the story where I'm wondering if I should continue it or not. I'd like everyone's opinion on the matter and whether it's a solid story. Thanks as always!!

Here's the next section to my story. It's rather short but better than nothing. I'm hoping I get a couple of responses here. I really want to finish this and would like some comments on the way to completion.

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Part Seven

Gilford couldn't believe what was just said. A whole century of inexistence? Was his brain hooked up to a machine or something? He needed to know more.

"What did he do for the gallery?" Gilford asked as Lenny began to scurry through the papers.

"Well he was a true patron of the arts. One of the founders of the National Gallery. It just doesn't make sense though. How could he still be alive?"

Louis laughed as he adjusted his sling yet again, wincing in pain. "Who's to say he's alive? Could be a damned robot on the fritz. Perhaps some crazy wastelander controls it all. We won't know until we get to that damn vault. And whose to say any of the art will be there?"

"Don't lose hope Louis." Gilford said, patting Louis on the shoulder. "You will not of been shot in vain. We are destined to find something down there."

Lenny nodded as he folded up the papers and placed them in a side pocket. He then took out some sort of hand held radio.

"I need to contact Gegard on this. Hold on." Lenny gabbed as he walked to the bathroom juxtapose to the offices.

"Hehe?contact Gegard? Is he serious?" Louis chuckled as he sat down in an old and grimy office chair.

"Well Mister Quincy needs to know what we've found." Gilford said. Louis laughed a second time.

"Needs to know? You think he really gives a rat's ass about us? Look at your story. Friend gets murdered by raiders and he cares about a single painting that's blotched up like all the rest. It's all bull crap to me."

"Then why did you join the Patrons?" Gilford questioned. It got fairly silent. Louis' tone turned grave.

"Look here small fry, what we should be worried about is the situation we're in. I know from experience that if someone was a mercenary then they will always be a mercenary. Don't let him tell you otherwise. It's just something about him man. Do you think he'd truly do this without pay? Do you?"

Lenny came bolting out as Louis stopped talking.

"What did I miss?" Lenny asked as he put the radio away.

"Nothing at all buddy?just speaking to Gilford about who this Mellon fellow could be." Gilford was stressed, sweat coming down his lips as he awaited Lenny's reaction. Did he really hear any of their conversation? Did he think that the two would be planning mutiny? Lenny appeared relaxed as he nodded.

"Any guess is as good as mine. We'll find out at Vault 37. Let's get cracking!!"

You seem to be enjoying the intense action. I still appreciate the cause and I would suggest continuance of this story. In the end the moral of the story should reflect the importance of the art.
The action is justified by the garnering of ancient artwork. Noticibly the characters appreciate 'contemporary' art more. The contrast made me smile...I really don't have any further critique other than that it would be a shame if you didn't complete the story.